I remember dreaming that one-day
I would have
the money to buy a root beer float.
I watched the older kids slurp
up the last drop.
And knew that the day would come
when I would be sitting there at the counter
in those very seats.
Time passed and the idea aged like good wine.
But when I earned the money to buy that dream
and returned to claim my reward
the soda fountain was
a showcase for hula-hoops.
Then I watched the Johns Payne and Wayne
kill off the enemy in the Pacific
and knew that soon I would be there.
Just before sleep each night,
I charged through the jungle,
striking terror in the hearts of the enemy
to the envy of my friends.
But, the war ended and peacetime Marine Corps
just wasn't what I had in mind.
Oh, well! I had a crush on Rita Hayward
and enjoyed looking in the mirror
to admire her future lover
so clean cut and debonair.
Just as I started to shave,
the blow fell
and she married a clarinet player.
Seems I never got to the table on time.
I had the appetite of a hungry bear and
the world should have been mine.
Instead, I found the ashes
of yesterday's volcanoes.
I have never been disappointed in a dream.
It has been reality that was the bummer.
So, in my rocking chair I remember
the dreamed taste of a
root beer float with the affection
usually recorded by the connoisseur.
And know in my heart that I should never try one
even if a soda fountain is found.